The Lost Seekers

Murder at the Arrow At Rest

Not as quiet a night as expected

Hmm, I have no idea how to write this. I mean, how does one leave a trail of breadcrumbs for a person they may never meet? Well that would be you then wouldn’t it? I suppose we shall start there, and that means we must give you a name. Alright, for the rest of these entries, I’ll refer to you as Ade. That’s A-D-E, said ah-dee. As in Adventurer, because that is what I think you must be. To collect The Hammer Of Baldric, you must be an adventurer, and you are reading the journal of one of Baldric’s descendants, Baldrin. Baldrin Smithson is my name, and I am writing this journal to you in the hopes that one day, after I’m gone, someone else will collect this hammer, which I hope to make mine. I also hope that by that time I will be a famous legend, so this journal serves to recount my tales in as unbiased a way as I can. Though that’s saying much about naught really.

So, this is my first entry, and I’m writing it here in The Arrow At Rest. I’ve established this to be as good a place to start, as Lillavida Banes is an old adventurer of some repute, and may have knowledge of the Hammer. Or at least that’s what I’d assumed, but it turns out all she knows is a scholar will come to visit in a week’s time and he may be able to help. Not the greatest of clues, but it is a good start. I’d half expected to have to traipse to the other side of the world or some such, so an inn around the corner and down the road from home isn’t that bad. I arrived this evening in good spirits, only to discover that the custom of the world is to have people take their armour off before they rest for an evening. I believe it is a custom I am going to ignore occasionally in future, as it became quite a problem this evening. During my light dinner, having paid the innkeep to sleep in the stables (come Ade, I’m only a poor adventurer at his point) I noticed a curious bunch of elves, that from my vague memories worshipped a good god. After ascertaining this, I fell back into my studies of the history of the hammer and paid them no mind (this will be important, I promise). After a number of hours passed and most of the Inn’s patrons had gone home, the Inn was attacked by wicked little goblinite things. Nasty little buggers they were too.
In all of the commotion and the yelling, one of the elves (their leader, I assume) died from poison. I’ve been lead to believe that occurred just before the small hamlet was attacked by the Goblins. I must say, because of that ‘no armour’ rule I looked quite foolish, as most of the folk left in the inn were almost bushwhacked by a small ambush that sprung from the basement. I had been upstairs attempting to put my armour on when I heard the commotion. So me, and one of the other patrons who had been attempting to assist me (I gather he found my hammer impressive enough he thought I might be of sturdy stock) came barrelling down the stairs to the sounds of a young lady’s screams. Later I discovered my assistor’s name to be Lysander, and he seems to have a strange obsession with wildlife. Anyway, the patrons of the inn, myself included, managed to fend off the goblinite attack, and that is where our story gets most interesting.
You see, while scouting around looking for more goblins with the lovely Lillavida, she brought it to my attention that a murderer is staying at the inn. She asked that I, along with a few other patrons of the inn, find said murderer and bring him to justice. She also asked us to fix the goblin problem, just in case it got worse. With that in mind we promptly set about questioning the people staying in the inn. Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself. First, I must give a name to these noble souls. So, in no particular order we have:
Lysander Woods: a small young man with a distinct fascination with the wilds.
Yarwyck: another short man, but grubby and ill looked after. His appearance brings to mind that of a slave or someone destitute in nature.
Jarvan Pious: a large strapping lad that I can only presume to be a fledgling Paladin, due to his righteous demeanour and over-eager pursuit of justice.
And finally, the lovely Lady Endolynn Lindenberg: the only member of this rag tag party to give me a full name, and also one of the most pleasant young ladies a body could meet.
Anyway, to continue the recounting of my stay at the inn, we proceeded to question the other inhabitants of the inn. To save my hand, I won’t give a blow by blow of the events, I’ll simply recount what we have learned.
There are six guests at the inn, excluding ourselves. They consist of the three elves: Austor Xystiel, Kybye Tenerion, and Marius Clurino; two hobbits of dubious capability: Lucien Pickheart and Mendon Tealeaf; and a wizard named Thalassoss. In addition, there is Lillavida, and her two daughters Ternia and Vola, as well as another serving maid named Mary, and a Bard that goes by the name of Thurka Snargg. We have discovered that both Kybye and Lucien went down to the kitchen before the Elf Cleric (Evansiel Terebast) was poisoned, and we have also established that Evansiel was indeed poisoned. Due to the strange behaviour of the wizard, we went to great lengths to search his room and questioned him most thoroughly. I believe due to our efforts that he is not the culprit. We have also questioned the young hobbits, and while their behaviour is peculiar, I find it doubtful it was them. For one thing, while they did step out before the goblins came to town, they also promptly attacked said goblins. As such, it seems very odd that they would hire them to create a diversion only to then kill them. Finally, as an additional piece of evidence, I recall Mary to be in the hallway outside of the elves room during the attack, and this to me suggests she may have been watching to see if her poison worked. However, due to her relationship with Mistress Lillavida, I hesitate to simply search her room and demand she owns up to it.
With that in mind, I have encouraged the others to journey with me into the heart of the goblin lair in the hopes of finding evidence of foul play. It is my hope that while there, we may find a letter or other piece of evidence that will point us toward the culprit. While we are away, I have convinced the local guard to watch the patrons of the inn as well as the serving staff, to insure no-one slips away while we are out looking for evidence.

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Ebondruid

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